Chapter 3 Mia
MIA
PLAYLIST: PULSAR STAR – ANYA NAMI
Istare at the closed door and can’t believe what just happened. The audacity some people have!
I am not easily enraged, but right now, I am.
“What the hell, Mia!” says Bella. “How did Victoria Fitzroy end up with your bag? And what the bloody hell was that?”
I never wanted to live alone more than I do right now.
“Who is she?” I ask. “Never heard of her before.”
“She’s like royalty. Owner of The ￡1 Million Club.”
“The what?” I ask.
“It’s a secret club where the rich and famous meet and party. “No one knows anything, but everyone wants part of it, some say even Royals are members,” Bella says, and as I look more puzzled with every word she says,
“Come on, Mia.” The speculations are in the tabloid every month. She’s an institution. Her family is one of the wealthiest in Britain, and she is friends with all the people you know from magazines only.”
“My dear Bella,” I say, “We have been living here together for more than seven years now. When will you finally understand that I’ll open a tabloid the day someone holds a gun to my head and tells me to read it, or I die.”
Bella laughs, I don’t.
“You’re missing all the fun,” she says. “Damnit, I wish you had told her to come inside. That would be a great story. Tea with Victory Fitzroy in a Greenwich two-bedroom flat. That would be a headline.”
I groan and get back to my room.
I snuggle back into my blanket, lift the clingy one of my cats on my lap and open a book. But I can’t focus on the words. My mind wanders off the entire time, and when I read the same passage the tenth time, I give up.
Who the hell does that woman believe she is?
How dare she?
Not knowing me and having an opinion.
I am rarely angry, but this woman causes my chest to be tight from it.
Telling me I don’t feel worthy enough, who is she?
Does she know me? No.
How I hate rich people!
It has been the same behaviour my mother had grown into after she left my father and married that rich arsehole. He has made her even worse. Money makes people the biggest arseholes. They crush souls, destroy our planet, believe they’re above everyone else and cross boundaries like this.
My fingernails dig painfully into my palm.
I have a stable job, I am a nice person, I help my neighbours, I teach children how to be kind and empathetic, for god’s sake, and that woman comes here and calls me things.
I should have said no to Robert.
That entire thing was what started it.
Robert.
Urgh.
Only then do I remember how all of that could happen. That man. Talks only about himself, asks me no questions, and then tells me he had a great time and that we should do it again.
That Victoria woman was right about that, tells a voice in my head to me.
“But that doesn’t mean everything else is right, too,” I say out loud, trying to shove my thoughts away.
Only my mind doesn’t let me.
If I were completely honest with myself, which I am not, I’d acknowledge she’s right. I don’t have much self-worth; my mother has taken care of that. If I had self-worth, I’d eat in front of other people. I would’ve said no to Robert. But I don’t. Because I am a kind person who thinks of others.
So, what if I have low self-worth?
What does it matter to her if I am okay with it? I have to live with myself, and I am doing just fine.
Everything was fine until that woman opened her mouth and came here. I have everything I need. Peace. Quiet. My cats. Books. There is not much else I need from life.
Of course, I sometimes dream of travelling and learning about other cultures, but I am not a materialist. I am also convinced that those who feel the need to show off how much money they have are the ones with the lowest self-worth of all.
I slap the book closed in annoyance. The sound it makes causes my cat to jump up from the snuggly spot on my lap, and she hides under my bed.
What happened today should be a reminder to me to never go out again, with anyone, ever. Not that I have done much of that before. Here is just another reason.
There was a time when I wanted to, but didn’t have the people to make it happen. Now, I don’t care anymore. I don’t want anything to ever disrupt my peace.
At that moment, my phone rings. I groan as I look at the display. My mother. That woman can sniff me thinking about her.
“Yes,” I say when I answer the phone.
“Are you okay?” my mother asks.
“Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I?”
“You didn’t call today,” she says.
“Yeah, sorry, I was…um…I had a lot of work to do, preparations for next week.”
“You work too much,” says my mother. “You need to find a man, love, or all the good ones will be taken by the girls out of your league.”
“Mom!” I say, fuming inside within the matter of a second, anger boiling in me.
“It’s true, those girls know how to lock in a man, you should—“
“Mom, seriously, stop it!” I shout and jump up. “I don’t want a bloody man, and I—“
“You what? Those cats of yours won’t take care of you when you’re older. You need children.“
I scoff. Good to know why you had me, I think to myself. I don’t want children. I have my kids at school, and that’s fine. I want my peace at home.
“How’s Rick doing?” I ask to get away from the topic.
“Wonderful,” she says. “He’ll be back on Wednesday, and we’ll fly to Dubai then.”
“Dubai,” I say.
“Yes, he’ll take me for some shopping there. I can’t wait.”
“Great,” I say without meaning it. A knock on my door. “Have fun then. I gotta go, Bella is waiting for me.”
“Oh, tell Bella how I miss seeing her; she should come around more often. She has to tell me how it ended with that Lord she was dating.”
I close my eyes for a moment and breathe out. My lovely mother.
“I need your help,” says Bella through the door.
Everyone wants something from me. So much about nothing disrupting my peace. I heave my body off the bed and stick my head out of the door.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Zip me up, will you?” she asks and turns around. She wears a dark red dress that could not be any shorter. I can almost see her arse.
Bella is the complete opposite of me. Her rich mother lives somewhere in the States now and sends her money every month, while my mother married into money and gives me nothing. Not that I want it, I wouldn’t, but Bella simply uses her parents. I admire it. I’d like to have the guts to do so, too.
Bella’s father has a company and doesn’t give a crap about her, just like mine; it’s one of the few things we have in common.
I don’t even know where he is or what he’s doing.
After my mother left him, he just vanished.
And Bella’s dad, he’s so superficial that I am certain someone will slip on his slickness one day.
“Did you talk to your mother?” Bella asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “The typical.”
“Meh,” says Bella. “Oh, and don’t mind the chaos in the bathroom, I’ll clean that—maybe tomorrow.”
I laugh because I know it will, in fact, not get cleaned unless I do it. I sigh.
I am clean and like things to be structured.
Bella is an unbearable slob. Messy. Unorganised.
Chaos impersonated—we couldn’t be any more different.
She is outgoing, parties every week, and jumps into bed with almost everyone.
I don’t mind, while I do mind. I want her to have fun, but I especially mind when I am lying awake in bed, listening to ‘Naughty Wall Bangers 1 to 3’ in one night.
But I deal with it because Bella’s parents own this flat. And rent is very, very low. The only reason I still live here. Well, and Bella can be a very nice person unless not drunk. I learned to love her more than I sometimes admit.
“What are you up to?” I ask her. I always ask, just in case she gets lost—something that has happened more times than I’d like.
I have known Bella since university, and it has always been a love-hate friendship between us.
I helped her earn her degree, and she helped me stop being the loneliest loner in the entire world.
“Remember that guy from last week?” she asks.
“Which one?” I ask sardonically.
She laughs.
“The one that stayed for breakfast.”
“Oh, that one,” I say with a groan, “Vividly.” Because when I came into the kitchen to make myself breakfast, I ran into an undressed, very, um, broad guy, whom Bella had forgotten to tell that she lives with a roommate.
I don’t like dressed men, least of all do I have to see them naked.
“He’s throwing a party,” she says. “I’ll text you my location when I’m there.”
“Yep,” I tell her. “Anything else? Otherwise, I’d go back to reading.”
“You could join me,” she says. I only cock an eyebrow.
“Alright, alright,” she says, adding, “One day, I’ll make you leave your room and go out with me.”
“That day will never come,” I say and go to the kitchen, now that I am up anyway, and make myself a tea.
Bella gets herself ready, leaves, and returns three times because of all the things she has forgotten. Once for the key, and I have to open the door for her. Once for the phone, and once for the jacket.
In that department, we are twin sisters. I run back at least twice whenever I leave the house. I don’t know how other people do it, but I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached to my body, which is also the reason why I forgot that damn bag earlier.
When Bella is finally out of the house, I take my tea, get my blanket and place myself on the living room sofa. I actually enjoy Bella being gone so often, because it means I have the flat to myself.
It is dark outside when I hear my phone vibrate in my room. I have no clue how much time passed, and when I get up to get it, I see it’s already after midnight.
Seven messages from Bella, she must be drunk to the point of unconsciousness because I cannot grasp what she's trying to tell me.
I sigh and press her name to call her.
When she answers the call, an ear-splitting noise cuts through my brain. Apparently, she's in some club with very loud music.